


A Foul Devil Of A Man

by howldax



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: AU, Biting, Blood, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Breathplay, But Really Unhealthy and Unsafe, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Kevin is Inhuman, M/M, Mid-Sex Crisis, No Carlos, No Explanation Of Where The Fuck Carlos Is And Why That Place Is Not Night Vale, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Teeth, Typical Night Vale Weirdness, Unhealthy Relationships, Where Biology Is Concerned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:03:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4501851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howldax/pseuds/howldax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something awful and absolutely addictive about kissing Kevin. It's like looking in a corrupted mirror - that familiar smooth skin, dark and tempting, marred almost constantly by blood or new wounds; teeth pointed and jagged, a smile full of poison instead of soothing words; eyes black and depthless, infinite and flat, a far cry from Cecil's own violet irises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Foul Devil Of A Man

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to several cecil/kevin playlists on 8tracks, particularly Crying Lightning and Blood and Coffee, which you should definitely check out! Please leave kudos and comments if the mood takes you - each one is cherished and filed away in a Secret Police Drawer to be re-admired later.

There's something awful and absolutely addictive about kissing Kevin. It's like looking in a corrupted mirror - that familiar smooth skin, dark and tempting, marred almost constantly by blood or new wounds; teeth pointed and jagged, a smile full of poison instead of soothing words; eyes black and depthless, infinite and flat, a far cry from Cecil's own violet irises.

 

Kevin kisses like he's trying to consume, biting and licking and easily distracted by Cecil's neck, the unmarked skin there to break. His mouth tastes of blood and somehow like fire, and Cecil thinks of the burning desert sun crawling inside his skin to flay him alive. When they part, Cecil's breathing is heavy, and Kevin's is unchanged.

 

“We aren't being very productive right now,” Kevin says, without his smile moving. Cecil wonders whether his mouth is there for speech at all, or just for kissing and fear.

 

“Please, don't,” he says instead of asking, even the reminder of Strexcorp too much, and pulls Kevin back in with a hand in the hair curled at the nape of his neck. Kevin smiles into his mouth and his teeth catch Cecil's lips, drawing blood that runs down their chins. Kevin moves away and chases it, flicking out his tongue to ensure none of it goes to waste.

 

“We taste so similar,” he murmurs, biting Cecil's collarbone. The skin gives way without much pressure, and Kevin rubs his face against it to smear blood along his cheekbone.

 

“Similar things are not always the most compatible, or a healthy combination,” Cecil says, still clutching Kevin's hair. Kevin stands abruptly straight, their eyes exactly level, before pushing Cecil hard. Cecil falls backwards onto the bed with a cry of alarm, dragging Kevin down with him when his fingers won't untangle from Kevin's snarled locks. Cecil keeps his hair smooth and pristine so it reaches to his waist in a shimmering oil-slick; Kevin's is bloodied and unkempt, and he claims that it would be an unproductive waste of time to detangle it all.

 

Kevin lands straddling him with so little effort that it's almost frightening, but they've been doing this for long enough that Cecil has moved past fear into the Government-Approved Second Stage of 'Guilt Over Unhealthy Practices'. Kevin pushes his face once more across Cecil's bleeding collarbone to create matching smears across his cheeks like war paint.

 

“Dissimilar things are often completely incompatible, once the initial novelty of their differences has worn off,” he says, sing-song. “But that's good! Because now, we can explore the effects of alike creatures on each other. For example, does this-” he bites at Cecil's earlobe, gentle so as not to pierce the flesh but with enough pressure to cause bruising, and Cecil moans, “-have the same effect on you as it does on me, your double?” Kevin closes his mouth around the forming bruise and sucks hard, and Cecil's back arches. Kevin smiles against the corner of his jaw. “Apparently so.”

 

Cecil pushes blindly against the waistband of Kevin's trousers, shoving them below his hips as Kevin presses closer, a suffocating presence that leaves Cecil's fear spiking from the usual elevated levels and his head spinning with arousal. He can't escape, not without a struggle, and he doesn't want to, as much as he hates his own reliance on whatever they have. Kevin presses a hand against his throat, and Cecil's hands go from pushing to clutching in moments, leaving white imprints in Kevin's wrist that fade mere seconds after Cecil's fingers move away. One hand digs forcefully into the divot of Kevin's hip as his fingers press harder and he howls, inhuman and terrifying, his hand tightening around Cecil's throat until there are sparks in his vision and his vision swims, and the sickening sound of something cracking cuts through Kevin's unearthly wail. His hand moves briefly to Cecil's shoulder.

 

Kevin drags Cecil's shorts down his legs and tosses them aside, his mouths all open and glistening teeth exposed, dripping thick blood and ropes of saliva onto Cecil's chest as Kevin yanks his hands down it, tearing his shirt to ribbons with newly-manifested claws and pushing the tatters to either side. He leaves thin red welts in his wake, a couple oozing blood where he's broken multiple layers of the dermis to mix with that already sliding across Cecil's skin.

 

“Good work, Cecil,” he hisses, five obsidian eyes focused on Cecil and almost gleaming with an emotion Cecil can't identify. “You're showing definite promise!”

 

“You're a disgusting wretch of a man!” Cecil spits back, an echo of when he first saw Kevin's face, and Kevin's lips curl up in a smile that sickens Cecil to his stomach.

 

“I love it when you compliment me,” he says, claws digging pinpricks into Cecil's shoulders. “Don't you love it, how we compliment each other?”

 

It isn't his proudest moment, but Cecil spits, and it hits Kevin right in his forehead-eye. It blinks, but the others don't, and there's a spike of fear in his stomach unlike any he experiences on a daily basis as the four open eyes stare blankly at him. Kevin releases one shoulder to scrub the back of his hand across his eye.

 

“Oh, Cecil.”

 

“I'm sorry, Carlos,” Cecil says, quick and fervent, and then freezes. Kevin looks shocked, eyes wide and every muscle tensed atop Cecil.

 

“Cecil,” he says quietly, and Cecil turns his face to the side to hide the tears brimming in his eyes. It doesn't help, and Kevin gently tilts it back to face him with one clawed hand.

 

“I can never be Carlos, no matter how hard I try,” he says. “Carlos was beautiful, and scientifically interested in both of our communities, but he was not eternal. No Outsider can be, after all. Though Desert Bluffs and Night Vale may be considered enemies by your people, we understand each other like no other rural desert towns can. I am your double; I know you as intimately as I know myself, which is as intimate as one can be without opening up skin and bones to access and study the organs within. I am not beautiful, and I am not a scientist, but we are wrapped in each other like an overheating scorpion-skin blanket that is somewhere between stifling and comforting, and we can be that for each other until the supernovas of the fragile stars.”

 

“I don't want you to be Carlos,” Cecil says, tenderly wiping the blood-streaked saliva from the maw of Kevin's face-mouth. “You just sounded so much like him, in that moment. It was like being transported back in time to the moment everything crumbled, like a sand dune blown apart by a Secret Police helicopter, and it just kind of slipped out. We aren't always good for each other, but we are together, and that is what matters.”

 

“I love it when you do your radio voice,” Kevin says, and his own voice darkens. “Shall we continue?”

 

Cecil nods, sniffing, and Kevin kisses him, softer for a moment before he bites at Cecil's lips, the skin already torn almost beyond use. Cecil hiccups a little, and Kevin smiles. The familiarity of revulsion curls in Cecil's abdomen like a contented armadillo, and he smiles back. He loves Kevin and (hates?) fears him in equal measure, and he thinks this is what makes their relationship perfect.

 

He thought Carlos was perfect, but perfection is an unattainable ideal. Kevin is flawed, and disgusting, and terrifying, and loving to the point of obsession, and he is sometimes cruel, and they hurt and heal each other in equal measure. As Kevin bites and soothes and tastes Cecil's flesh like he would rather do nothing else for the rest of their joint existence, Cecil drifts on endorphins and pain; and when Kevin carefully wraps one clawed, bloody hand around his cock and strokes and kisses and licks Cecil to completion without creating a single wound where he knows Cecil does not want it, Cecil comes with Kevin's name on his lips, with Kevin's cock in his hand and then Kevin's come on his bloodied, slippery stomach.

 

They aren't healthy, but they're perfect, in their own strange way.

 

**Author's Note:**

> "I think what makes people fascinating is conflict, it's drama, it's the human condition. Nobody wants to watch perfection."


End file.
